voice pulled me back to the conversation. "I didn't ask Mom cause you know how she gets, all teary and sniffly. Just can't deal with that emotional stuff right now. I've got problems of my own."
With my older brother, it was almost always about his problems. So much so that he couldn't even find the time to visit Vick after his cancer diagnosis. The man had been the only real father either of us ever had, but David couldn't make the effort.
The music was loud enough that David could hear it through my phone. "Where are you at? A party? Oh wait, that's right. Mom told me it was to celebrate that you and King are no longer rookie smokejumpers. Congratulations. I wasn't sure you had it in you. Guess I underestimated my little brother."
Just like I overestimated my big brother was what I wanted to say to him, but I muttered thanks instead.
"Hey listen, Jack, I'll let you go. I just had a little request." And here it came, his usual motive for calling. I knew it wasn't just to shoot the breeze or congratulate me on surpassing his expectations as a firefighter. "I'm coming up short this month, and I've got to pay my rent. Suzy lost her job at the bank, big layoffs everywhere. Do you think you could shoot a few hundred bucks my way? I'll pay you back." He had borrowed money for the past four years. He hadn't paid back a dime, but I didn't care. He was my brother. What the hell else was I supposed to do?
"Yeah, how much? Three hundred?"
"Actually, if you could spare five hundred that would be awesome. I'll get it back to you just as soon as I can."
"Yep. Well, I need to get to this party, guest of honor and all that. I'll send the money over right now."
"Thanks, bro, I really appreciate it." He hung up. That was the extent of the conversation, a short greeting and a few statements that made him feel good because he was asking about the rest of us even though he couldn't give a damn, then straight to the money. I opened my bank account. The transfer to his bank account was all set up because it was easier that way. I sent off five hundred bucks just as the phone rang again. It seemed I was in especially high demand this morning. This time it was Mom, so I answered fast.
"Hey, Mom, everything all right?"
"Yes, everything is fine." Her voice sounded as if nothing was fine and as if nothing would ever be fine again. Vick Devlin had saved all our lives, and now we were watching the once vital, strong man, a guy who could handle a bucking bronco like it was a helpless puppy, wither away as a rotten disease got the best of him.
"I just got to the lake. What's up?"
"I hate to keep you from your little party—" To my mom, a party still meant a bunch of us hanging out together, listening to the radio, sipping that horrid red punch and eating cupcakes. I hadn't stepped through the trees but considering the slamming music and the loud voices thundering across the parking lot, I was pretty sure punch and cupcakes weren't on the menu. "Vick is up. He's a little groggy," she whispered loudly, as an afterthought. "He'd like to speak to you. Do you have time?"
"Sure. Put him on." I'd spent the night in the chair at the hospital. My neck and back reminded me of that every time I moved even the slightest bit. I'd hoped to talk to Vick when he was more awake and lucid, but he was so out of it he thought we were standing out in his barn. He kept reminding me that Arrow needed new shoes and that Rebel needed to be turned out because he was getting antsy in his stall.
"Hey, Bronx." Vick had been the first to start using my nickname. He told me I'd earned it for breaking more colts than any cowboy he ever rode with. He was always good about recognizing my accomplishments. He was also just as good at letting me know when I'd done something wrong. He had far greater influence on my character than anyone else. I was sure if David hadn't already been off on his own by the time we moved to Vick's ranch, he would have turned out differently. At least, that was the younger